How did a South African farm girl, who started smoking marijuana at nine, joined a gang and became a teenage mom, overcome her past to set up a soup kitchen from her home that feeds thousands of hungry people a month? KAT FARQUHARSON asked her
Sis Doekies sustains her challenged community with a big smile. ‘I used to eat out of a dump but today I cook for others! We go the extra mile because we know what it’s like to feel hopeless,’ she says | Photo: Ronelle de Villiers
Former kindergarten teacher Catherina Johnson (53), affectionately known as Sis Doekies, grew up near Tulbagh and attended Montrouge Primary and Waveren High Schools. Today, she lives in Fisantekraal with her mechanic husband Abraham. They have three adult sons and four grandchildren
‘I was born on a farm in Tulbagh, nestled deep within the Winterhoek Mountains, the youngest of a very large family. My father worked as a waterman on the farm and my mother as a cleaner in the farmhouse. We lived in one of the workers’ houses on the farm and my parents created a life for us that, despite its hardships, felt safe and full of love. We weren’t wealthy, but we were rich in other ways. Family was everything, and life felt warm.
When I was nine, my world shattered when my father died from jaundice. Even though Mom still cleaned the farmhouse, the farmer told us we had to move out to make way for my dad’s replacement. Mom moved us in with my older brother on a neighbouring farm to avoid welfare taking us away, but things were never the same. Our close-knit family started to unravel. She was wrecked by my dad’s death, started drinking and wasn’t really available to me. Sometimes I had to eat out of the dump. Life wasn’t good.
Losing my father, my home, my safety and, basically, my mother left me angry and resentful. I hated the white people who I felt had disregarded our sorrow and added homelessness to it. My anger turned into rebellion. Still aged nine, I found myself turning to the only escape I could find: drugs. These were a way of life on the farm.
I didn’t recognise myself
It wasn’t long before my siblings and I joined a local gang. And so began a spiral that took us further and further away from the life my parents had built for us. For the next decade, I was someone my father wouldn’t have recognised. I didn’t even recognise myself. I was utterly addicted to alcohol and drugs and did bad things as part of the gang, like killing chickens, even a sheep. One day we stole a farm truck to go to the beach far away. We never got there because none of us could drive and we drove it straight into the farm cool store by accident. The police came but nothing was proved so we got away with it!
While my mother stopped drinking to save us children from our addictions and gangsterism, I moved further and further away from her hope for me, breaking her heart time and time again. At 18, I found out I was pregnant.
But even in the darkest places, a seed of hope can grow. I had a niece my age called Cathleen whose life had changed when she started dating a young pastor. She’d urge me to leave the gang and substances behind, to find something better in the God she trusted. ‘You can’t keep living like this, Catherina. It will kill you,’ she’d say. I knew deep down something needed to change for my child’s sake, but was too bitter to believe that it could.
After her father died and her family unit became challenged, Sister Doekies says she became someone her father wouldn’t have recognised. ‘I was utterly addicted to alcohol and drugs and did bad things as part of a gang.’ Her niece Cathleen [above] as a teenager urged her aunt to leave marijuana and the gang and behind her
Cathleen kept praying, and her persistence slowly wore me down. ‘You’ve broken your mother’s heart. What will you do if your baby grows up to be like you and breaks yours?’ she asked. Her words cut through my darkness, I couldn’t shake them. I’d already stopped using drugs and drinking during pregnancy, but her question opened my eyes to how difficult things might be. I considered how Cathleen’s life had changed. Maybe I wasn’t actually too far gone to follow her on a path that would protect my child?
So I joined her in church. And there, on a farm, in a simple shed where the pastor prayed for me, I met Jesus. It was an ordinary day but I felt something stir inside me, and knelt and gave my life to him. My older brother watched me from a distance, smoking weed, and told his friend, ‘She’ll be back in the gang before we know it.’ But I knew that God offered me something more: freedom, forgiveness and a chance to start again.
strength
I left the gang, and despite their attempts to pull me back, I never returned. I believe God healed me completely of bitterness and addiction. I know it was Him because I’d tried hard to give up this lifestyle over the years, but it was only after experiencing Jesus that I had the strength to stand firm. I even made the choice to dress modestly from then on, as a sign that my body wasn’t to be exploited.
My son was born five days after my 19th birthday. People told me to give him up for adoption but I said I’d never do that. I was a child with a child, but the first time I held him in my arms, I decided I was no longer a girl but a mom. He had something wrong with his nostril and my mom said, ‘What’s this? You must pray.’ And it got better – you’d never know now, apart from a tiny mark. My baby’s father left me for another lady, I wasn’t good enough because I didn’t want to go dancing any more. But Mom helped me so much and I met Abraham, the best husband I could ever hope for, who I got to know on a Christian youth camp. We’d known each other before that camp, but a spark formed and we married four years later. He was a wonderful father to my son and we had three more children together.
Sis Doekies with her husband Abraham and some of their grandchildren | Photo: Ronelle de Villiers
As my relationship with God deepened, I felt a calling to reconcile with those I harboured bitterness against. An uncle had died on the farm I’d come from, and I attended the funeral. All the white farming families were there. As the day progressed, I felt God prompting me to take the microphone to say something. I picked it up and confessed both what I’d done when I was in the gang and the hatred I had harboured for them. I asked them to forgive me for all the bad things I’d done to them, and I told them I forgave them for asking our family to leave our home.
It became a day of great reconciliation that mended old wounds and opened the door to new relationships. My hatred had gone. The family said they saw I was totally different. We were in a new relationship and today those same families welcome me with open arms when I visit. I’ve come to love them in a way I never thought possible. I believe that only God and His gospel of grace and reconciliation could have paved the way for something this astounding to happen in South Africa.
changed everything
Losing my father had changed everything. Gaining a heavenly father changed everything again. I found community and health. In 2000, the school where I had previously taught in kindergarten asked if I could run an aftercare at my home to help kids with maths. I agreed, but soon realised many kids were coming hungry. As Abraham and I had both had periods of hunger in our lives, we couldn’t let these children experience this, so I started cooking for them.
Above and below: Children take home food from the soup kitchen in Sis Doekies’ home. ‘As Abraham and I had both had periods of hunger in our lives, we couldn’t let these children experience this,’ she says | Photos: Ronelle de Villiers
One morning I was standing in my kitchen, pregnant with my third baby, and got the feeling that someone was calling my name three times. ‘Doekies, Doekies, Doekies! I want you to help the poor people who can’t help themselves.’ The amazing thing is that the same day, Abraham heard the same call! He said to me, ‘We have a very small house, how can we help the people?’ We had a lot of excuses and I was crying but I said, ‘We’re going to do it, I don’t know how.’
Over the next nine years, we went through five stoves as we fed more and more children. Then, in 2019, adults started coming too. Fisantekraal is an area with high unemployment and the need for food is vast. Covid hit, and still we cooked. Abraham enlarged our kitchen so we could cater for more people.
Above and below: ‘I have big pots to fill and they have to be full to the top to feed all the people outside,’ says Sis Doekies. The couple say that, on the same day, they separately heard a voice urging them to feed people who couldn’t feed themselves. Says Sis: ‘We had a lot of excuses and I was crying but I said, “We’re going to do it!’’’ Abraham enlarged the Johnsons’ kitchen so they could cater for more people | Photos: Ronelle de Villiers
I don’t cook junk food for my community. I prepare the same food with the same love that I prepare for my husband and kids. I have big pots to fill and they have to be full to the top to feed all the people outside, but it is a pleasure to do it. It’s my passion, that’s what I want to do.
Above and below: Three times a week, queues of all ages start to build up outside the Johnsons’ home | Photos: Ronelle de Villiers
Abraham, a group of volunteers from Fisantekraal and I keep the soup kitchen running and serve our community with joy. We know we can’t change Fisantekraal on our own, but we can be a light in the darkness.
None of us takes a salary, there’s no money to pay anyone. We live by faith that the Lord will talk to people. We get food donations from an NPO called Mercy Aids, two churches and some housewives, and every second week we get a donation from Woolworths in Sunset Beach. There’s a lady abroad who I think sends food via a South African friend, but she doesn’t want me to know any details. Abraham works full time at the soup kitchen but we make ends meet financially by him doing a little mechanic work and there’s a church that gives us some money, and sometimes someone sends some money to my account.
‘It is a pleasure to help feed people. It’s my passion, that’s what I want to do,’ says Sis Doekies. ‘There’s no money to pay anyone, we don’t take a salary, we live by faith’ | Photo: Ronelle de Villiers
Our journey hasn’t been without challenges. It’s not easy for us. If Abraham and I hadn’t heard from God that day, we’d never do what we do. There are days when we have almost nothing left to cook, but He always provides. One morning, we had just one bag of peas and an onion. The volunteers thought I was crazy when I told them to fill the pots with water and salt, but I’d been praying since 3am with Abraham. Not long after, a car pulled up with a lady from a nearby church who had brought mutton, vegetables and everything we needed to feed the crowd.
Our community isn’t just a place to serve, it’s a place where we have found family. Abraham and I had a baby girl who died when she was just six months old, and I struggled to understand why God would allow such a loss. But over time He brought healing, and surrounded me with a community of daughters, sons and grandchildren to love. Though I still carry that pain, I’ve seen how God uses it to give me deeper compassion for others, especially mothers who have lost children. We want everyone who enters our door to know they are seen, valued and loved. We don’t just feed people, we offer them hope.
‘We want everyone who enters our door to know they are seen, valued and loved,’ says Sis Doekies | Photo: Ronelle de Villiers
A girl from the community helps distribute sustenance from the soup kitchen | Photo: Ronelle de Villiers
When I see the street kids coming for food it makes me so happy! There was no one for me when I was young and did all those stupid things. Looking back, I see how God has taken the broken pieces of my life and woven them into something beautiful. What began as a story of pain and bitterness has become a story of redemption. I’m humbled and privileged to be able to give food to another person. I used to eat out of a dump but today I cook for others! For that, I’m forever grateful.’
